Shockingly, his burns and wound were gone. Replaced instead by precise cuts of surgical grade equipment. The aim unknown, and the sight scaring the wits out of him.

'The hell is going on?' Ghakarhi wondered, trying and failing to turn around. Only causing a massive noise as the chains moved.

He immediately stopped, not wishing for whoever had tied him up to realize he was conscious. Unfortunately, it was too late.

{"Ah, so you are finally awake. Good, now we can continue with the good stuff."} Said an elderly man whose clothes were covered in blood. Newer stains clearly visible over the older ones, the man looked like a butcher.

Upon seeing him Ghakarhi recognized him as the man in purple who had found him before.

{"It is so interesting; your skin is much darker than those from Sanguine Desert. At the same time, your body is strong for someone without magic, almost as if you have been enhanced. I really do hope you will be able to help me."} The mage laughed lightly after saying this as he realized that his victim could not understand a word.

{"Of course, you came from somewhere else, so you do not know our language. Now let me see if I can glimpse at where you are from. Do try and stay awake... Would you?"} With that, the mage placed one hand over Ghakarhi's chest and the other against the temple of his head.

Soon Ghakarhi felt an insane amount of pain ripping into him. It was not physical pain, rather mental pain and something unexplainable. At one time it would feel like his body was being ripped apart, at other times it would feel as if he was burning, or needles were being endlessly pressed into his head.

Ghakarhi did not manage to stay awake for longer than five seconds.

{"Tskk, can't you stay awake. Oh no..."} With a cruel laugh the man said, {"We will have to improve your mental strength. I need to see where you came from. Just your thoughts alone confirmed that you are not from Ethos. No one here thinks like you."}

The mage felt elated on the inside, as the snippets he had managed to see were beyond what words could describe. The wonders of their world amazed him and he hungered for its secrets.

...

Ven shivered as she recalled the horror she had witnessed, having woken her again from her sleep as she looked around at the sounds of the forest in fear. No matter what, she couldn't shake the fear of being discovered and ending up like those poor women in the carriage.

Yet, she feared she would die even if she stayed hidden. Without any full night's sleep, she was always tired and her mind failed to work at capacity.

Adding onto this, her morale was incredibly low. While she had the knowledge to find food that was edible and even how to start a fire. She lacked the materials and skills to make use of that knowledge.

Each day she would attempt making a fire but the wet conditions of the forest did her no favors. Her hands were now covered in bleeding blisters and her stomach was constantly empty and growling.

Even when she found something she could harvest and eat raw, often it disturbed her stomach. Used to modern well-prepared food, her body failed to keep up with her mind.

She dared not try and eat the fish raw, wary of parasites that freshwater fish might contain. The problems she was already facing were dire enough. She knew she would die if she became sick.

Her entire body also ached from the insects who would feast on her during the night, making her situation even worse as the itch was constantly on her mind.

Depressed, she sat under a tree in the rain, her clothes soaking wet. "It's cold, so cold…" Ven whispered as her teeth chattered.

She did not think she would last much longer. She could no longer think of trying to survive in such a world. She could feel death nearing with each day, as the cold spread deeper and deeper into her body. Refusing to ever leave.

Finally, as the sun rose, she stood up weakly. Still wet and cold to the bone, she started retracing her steps to where she had seen that awful sight. Hoping that she might be able to get some clothes and proper food, though most had likely rotten by now.

After hours of stumbling and walking, she made it to the carriage. The smell immediately putting her off. Most of the corpses had been eaten by animals but the smell was still absolutely terrible. Simply looking at this Ven gave up on attempting to take the clothes.

Falling down she thought of just giving up, but she couldn't. She had to make it back to her children. Despondent and half giving up, she started following one of the roads to find civilization.

Hoping beyond hope that they would be kind, as she was certain she would not last in the forest much longer.

In her hands she held her makeshift spear, using it more as a crutch. She hoped to put up some fight, or at the least ensure they killed her if she met with bandits. To make it not worth the effort to keep her alive.

After two days of constant travel, limping and with little energy, Ven finally came upon a village. So tired she could not do much more than stand and watch. Falling unconscious a few moments later as she saw a bunch of farmhands rushing over towards her.

'Please… Be kind…' She prayed as her mind slipped from her control and she lost the last means of ending things if worst came to worst.

...

Lying still and despondent on the ground, Edvard waited for the rustle of leaves and his coming death. No longer having the will to try and fight, wishing only for death. If what awaited him was a crazed version of his wife aiming for his life, he would rather not try.

Instead of leaves rustling and a beast coming to tear at him, a voice resounded through the air. Causing confusion and muddling Edvard's thoughts that were replaying the last few seconds, time and time again.

"I am sorry if this has all been too abrupt or if it had felt like torture. But if I had warned you of what was to come, you might have broken the illusion… Instead of surviving it. It was my truest gift, something only those who had not learned any type magic can receive."

Edvard did not react, only cursing the owner of the voice in his mind. He was unable to accept that that had all been a 'gift'. That such a hell could have been an illusion.

His last moments with Yawen on his chest kept repeating in his mind. Edvard wanted those to be his last thoughts. While he could still recall her warmth and remember who she truly had been. Not the crazed monster who had aimed for his life.

The voice however cared little for his struggle and continued on as if the one he was talking to would be in a normal state of mind.